


a silver circle

by lizamarri



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Historical, Kitty - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, acrobat au, and honestly kit's always harping on about how pretty he is, so i made him an acrobat, sorta greatest showman au?, ty is an acrobat because yes, ty is basically zendaya's acrobatics tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizamarri/pseuds/lizamarri
Summary: Kit Rook is tired of rules.He's never been able to do anything interesting with his life, he's been stuck to the same old dreary routines since as long as he can remember.Then Diana Wrayburn offers him a proposition, and he's suddendly enthralled by the black-haired acrobat with eyes like silver stars.
Relationships: Tiberius Blackthorn & Kit Rook, Tiberius Blackthorn/Kit Rook
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	a silver circle

**Author's Note:**

> lmao this is basically me venting abt how goddamn good zendaya was at all that acrobatic shit in the greatest showman

The Blackthorns are well known for being a strange family. 

He’s heard the whispers around town, the hushed murmurs that are often embellished by fallacies but surely founded on truths.

Their youngest, still under the care of the oldest. Said oldest one of the youngest men to ever run for Parliament. And apparently, already with a wife at his side.

And they’re all orphans.

There are smaller tales too- less popular, less known, but no less surprisingly tantalizing. A mysterious death of one of the sisters, which led to her twin running off to the circus. The _circus._

The surprising thing is, he knows it’s true. 

There’s others. The eldest boy, who supposedly ran off with a Mexican girl _and_ a mysterious boy, yes, _both of them._ The eldest daughter, who is rumored to be Aline Penhallow’s lover. Not much is known about the youngest daughter, but everyone who’s met her titters about how she’s gory and brash. 

Kit likes the Blackthorns. He’s never met them, but he likes them. 

His father has told him to stay away from them. Hah. Like his father’s any better then the dirt he thinks they are. In his mind, the Blackthorns are a family who survived, and not only survived, but thrived. In his mind, his father’s a crook. 

But Kit still loves him. 

And because of him, the Rooks are rich.

* * *

“Kit Rook.”

He sips gently on his whiskey. “Yes?”

There’s a woman sitting next to him. Normally, he would make some remotely flirtatious remark, see if he could get anywhere, but there is something about this woman that suggests she is not to be trifled with. It’s in the square cut of her jaw, and the piercing look in her eyes. 

“My name is Diana Wrayburn,” She says, articulating each word sharply. “I hear you have money to spend.”

Kit takes another sip. “To spend, not to waste.”

“This wouldn’t be a waste.”

He hides his smile beneath the rim of his glass, and waves his hand. “Tell me.”

He’s not used to this- it’s never… really happened before. But his father’s company is an entrepreneurship, made to sponsor new businesses, and honestly? It’s usually used to fund shams and corporate schemes. He’s not used to honest ideas and honest hopes. 

So Diana begins to speak to him. She talks about her ideas and her _circus_ that is doing well for itself, but still needs help. Needs monetary help. 

It needs him. 

“Thanks, but no,” he says. “My father would never support such a… freestanding business.”

Diana snaps the fingers. A bottle slides down the bar. “I’m not asking your father,” she says, pouring two shots. “I’m asking you.” She slides one to him, and tips the other back.

He follows. The alcohol burns. “It’s my father’s company.”

“It’s your life,” she shoots back. “Aren’t you tired of following him around like a little puppy? Don’t you want something more, something fun?”

“If I wanted something fun, I’d be in the bar across the street.” He gestures towards the windows, where across the pavement glimmers the lazy lights of a far more crowded establishment.

He turns to leave, but Diana steps up and spins around, sitting in the stool on the other side of him with the grace of a silent gazelle. “This is the kind of fun your father will never let you have,” She says, thick eyebrows furrowing. “Aren’t you up for a little rebellion?”

Kit forces himself to look away. “A little rebellion does not usually cost so much.”

“Investments are dreams,” Diana says. “I think you have one- to finally do something exciting with your life.”

The last of his willpower melts, leaving him with nothing but an air of excitement he fiercely fights to quench. 

“Meet me there tomorrow,” Diana says, pulling out a slip of paper from her pocket. On it are neatly scribed a time and place. “Come see us work. Then make your decision.”

She leaves him at the bar with hopes and an empty glass.

* * *

Morrow’s early morning finds him fidgeting outside Blackthorn’s Circus. 

This isn’t him. This isn’t _right._ He doesn’t get nervous. Even when he slips out of difficult situations with more grace than a slicked eel. 

So why is he nervous now?

He looks back up, a figure in white is at the door. “You came.”

Kit blinks, and crumples the paper in his pocket. “I had an empty schedule.”

Diana gives him nothing but a wry grin, and escorts him inside. 

The inside of the circus house is… well, it’s beautiful. It smells like ropes and oil and sweat, but it isn’t bad. A few people are dotted here and there- a blonde woman who looks at him for only a second too long before she promptly turns on her heel and retreats, an old man, crouching in the corner and muttering over stacks of aged, wrinkled paper. 

“Ignore him,” Diana says, crisp and clear as last night. “He prefers to work out here. Dark and solitary in the seats, he says.”

“Who is he?” Kit asks, before he can tamper his curiosity.

“Arthur Blackthorn,” Diana says, with the air of someone who wants to be talking about something else. “This way, Mr. Rook.”

“Kit,” he responds, out of reflex. 

Diana nods, so small and sharp it almost looks like a flinch. She leads him out past the seats and to the center, where dusty golden light streams down into the sand pit at the center. 

She gestures over the open space. “Now here-”

A large thump interrupts her; Kit whips his head around to see a large beige sandbag that must be the source of the sound, connected to a rope that streams into the high heavens.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Diana has seemingly not noticed the sandbag, or at least not wasted her attention on it. She seems fixated on something else, something in the center of the ring. Her eyes betray fondness and pride. 

Kit looks to where she gazes, and feels the breath ripped out of his chest like water from a drowning man’s lungs.

A golden hoop shines, dangling dangerously several dozen feet above the ground. And in it is- a boy. 

Black hair shines under the dusty light, and for a second, all that’s visible is a silhouette. 

His arms are wound around the bottom half of the hoop, muscled and defined and pale, shining in the light. The rest of his body dangles in controlled grace, legs flowing but obviously tightly restrained. 

Muscles flex. Kit’s mouth goes dry. 

The boy seems to be in his own world. The depths of his eyes and face are hidden in shadow, shielded from the light by his ink-black hair and bowed head. He lands on the sand gently, the picture of grace, and twirls the hoop around himself like no one else is there. 

Kit is transfixed. He can’t look away. 

The boy swings the hoop behind him and perches gently inside of it, appearing to sit on the thin curve of metal. He spins in a lazy, small circle, tilting his head to the side. Then he’s moving again, smoother than a wave in motion. His chest rolls, and he reaches out, nimble fingers dancing in the dusty rays of light. Then all of a sudden he’s sitting up again, spinning on the spot, quick and dizzyingly. 

The boy flips, his legs reaching upwards and latching onto the top of the hoop. He’s completely upside down now, he bends his knees and pulls himself further upwards. Black hair dangles in a way that should look comical or badly disheveled, but it doesn’t. He looks ethereal, suspended by a circle of gold.

And suddenly, the hoop is pulled out of sight. 

“What-” Kit starts, but Diana silences him with a hand. “Watch.”

The boy comes sweeping in from one of the sides, hoop now gone, rope looped several times around his narrow wrist. As quick as he appeared, he’s gone. 

He comes back again, and this time, lets go of the rope and drops to the ground, smoothly rolling to release momentum. He snatches the rope out of the air again and tugs, it begins to pool in the sand.

And then the boy looks at him. 

He’s beautiful. 

Cheekbones carved out of ice, beautiful and deadly and _beautiful, how is a boy so beautiful._

He’s more beautiful than any girl Kit’s ever touched. 

The boy stares long enough for Kit to know he’s been seen. The slightest expressions pass over his face- of what, Kit couldn’t tell you.

The rope is still flying beside him. With snapping grace, he grabs the rope in a strong grasp and is tugged away like an angel being pulled to heaven.

His silhouette is framed by the dim sun as he wraps the rope around his wrists, his legs, his torso, flipping and spinning and pointing. His body moves like quicksilver, fast and sharp and completely controlled. 

A leg curls around the rope, attached body swinging around it. Kit finds his mouth dry again. 

Then the rope is wrapped around the boy’s waist, and he spins towards the ground, limbs outstretched like the prongs of a star, he's not stopping, he's not even slowing down-

And the rope jerks him to a halt just feet from the ground.

He lies there for a second, suspended, before swinging to an upright position and unwinding the rope from his waist. He walks towards the edge of the circle, his walk so different from the way he moves dangling in the air.

“Ty,” Diana says, “this is Kit. Kit, this is one of our acrobats, Tiberius Blackthorn.”

He’s still too stunned to speak. Ty gives a short nod, before walking away towards the wings without any preamble. 

“Ty enchants a lot of people that way,” she says, gesturing to his entire self. “Don’t worry about it.”

His eyes still on the spot where Ty landed, Kit speaks. “I’ll do it.”

Diana’s face breaks into a measured grin. “Good.” She gestures towards the wings. “I believe we have paperwork to sign.”

Kit follows her, his mind a mess of thoughts. The one most prevalent after a certain black haired acrobat; _What have I gotten myself into?_

**Author's Note:**

> tell me if you want to continue! i might, i’m not feeling completely done with this prompt ;)
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr @all-this-panic-still-no-disco and come to instagram for a trash can of my faves @liza_marri


End file.
